Loony Bin
by Fan Fic Addict-Gabriel 3
Summary: Dante's been locked up in a mental institution after his life of demon hunting is exposed and the government thinks he's crazy. Rated for strong language and strong story. R&R.
1. Chapter One: Prologue

**Note: **Prologue and epilogue are in third person view while the rest of the story is in Dante's POV. Also, Dante's thoughts are in _italics _and are inside apostrophes. _'Example.'_

**Chapter One: **_Prologue_

It was a rainy night that day in the slums. Devil Never Cry had been out of work for two weeks in a row now. Dante and Trish had started to auction useless junk like a broken toaster and half a pool table to get some extra cash. And before the two jobless weeks, the only jobs they got offered were little ones that Trish could handle on her own. That night, Dante went to the fridge to see what leftovers he could find.

"Goddamn, if this continues I'm gonna consider retiring…" He whispered.

Meanwhile, Trish sat on the sofa with her legs crossed looking at the roof and counting how many times the old, wooden floor creaked with Dante walking around in the kitchen.

"Hey Dante, how 'bout we start selling some stuff on eBay?" She asked curiously.

"Well how about we get a computer first?"

Dante got annoyed every time Trish asked him a stupid question out of pure boredom. Not being able to find anything in the fridge; he slammed it shut and walked the creaky road to his desk. He crossed his legs over the table and relaxed on the chair. Trish smirked at Dante's grumpy attitude and stared at him.

"Didn't find any leftovers?"

Dante sighed and faced upwards with the back of his neck hanging down before answering.

"What do you think? Why don't you make yourself useful and go get me a pizza at Joe's?"

"Jeez, take a chill pill while I'm gone too, will ya?" Trish jokingly added before leaving.

'_Yeah whatever, now shut the fuck up and go._'

Dante mocked her for a while before he got bored again. After ten **grueling** minutes of complete boredom; Dante heard a knock on the door. Being an automatic logic machine, he knew it wasn't Trish or she would've just come in. He hoped it was a job. The only down side was that people came to him personally only when it was a big save-the-world job—and he wasn't in the mood for that right now.

'_I just hope it's not this month's bill or something…_'

When he opened the door, he was surprised at what he saw. It was a man in a maroon coat, with big glasses and a nicely combed hair. He had a red tie in a white shirt with thin, gray lines and was in his mid-40s was standing in front of him.

"What do you want?" Dante asked menacingly.

"Can I go inside? It'll only be ten minutes, I guarantee it." The man replied, seeming not to have been intimidated by Dante.

Dante let the man in. He set his watch to alarm chronometer to tell him **exactly **when ten minutes had passed.

"Spill the beans 'cause the clock is ticking."

The man patiently sat down on the sofa and looked at Dante before he began to speak.

"My name is Johns Harvard. I am a journalist, and I'd like to write a story about you." The man introduced.

"Why would a journalist be interested in a poor man that lives in the slums?"

"How many slum inhabitants have a red neon sign that reads _Devil Never Cry_?"

"What makes you think this isn't a nigh club or a bar?"

"Well…it certainly doesn't look like one."

'_Get the hell out old man…_'

"Get to the point; you have exactly eight minutes left." Dante remarked.

"Fine, relax. I just want a short interview with you and it'll be on the Daily Informer tomorrow morning at ten."

Dante arched an eyebrow.

"And the interview is about…?" He questioned curiously.

"Tell me sir, what do you know about demons?"


	2. Chapter Two: Asylum

**Chapter Two: **_Asylum_

I sat leaned on a wall of cushions. I could feel nothing but my shoulders. Obviously…

"What the hell are they giving me?" I asked myself.

'_It can't really be a sedative. Or could it? I just don't know anymore. I'm lost in my very own mind. Curse it._'

I had no one to speak to. I spent my time speaking to myself when I was in my cell.

'_How am I gonna get outta here?_'

"It must be about three minutes 'till recess."

And just about after the time I calculated, the bell rang. Each guard came to their respective cell. My guard was Jake. He swiped his security guard through the clearance machine and the door to my cell opened. Jake helped me get up, and I walked outside.

'_The last guy who tried to escape ended up fried. I may be hardcore, but I still need a safe way out._'

Jake led me to the medication line where every "patient" stood in line with their guard next to them to take their daily medication. I didn't have medication. My mental status seemed to be terminal. I had no cure. I was destined to be in the loony bin for the rest of my life. All I took was a sedative each day to keep me calm. All it did was make me numb for five hours and only being able to feel my hands.

"Okay Paulo, you're good to go." Jake told me.

He took me to the recess room where there were all sorts of things for crazy nuts to entertain themselves with. There was a small "playground", a TV, painting tools and equipment, and toys. I never used any of these things. Except for my third day here when I painted myself killing a demon with Alastor.

'_If I paint anymore of those things they'll think I'm still crazy._'

So all I did for a full hour of recess time was sit on a small plastic chair. Always figuring out how I would be able to get out. I hated that place. I hated it every time someone in here called me Paulo Viceroy. Whoever conspired to get me locked up in that loony bin must've changed my identity completely.

"Dante doesn't exist. I am Paulo Viceroy." I muttered.

That led me to re-think the "reasons" I was here.

'_According to the government, I'm a potential danger to mankind because I have a terminal mental illness. I see things that aren't there and imagine impossible things. I think I am a man called Dante who slays creatures of the underworld with a female partner called Trish. I have murdered over one hundred people believing they were demons. I am to be locked up in the National Institute of Mental Health for the rest of my life where I will be treated accordingly and I won't harm anyone else.' _

"Bullshit…" I whispered under my breath.

I knew my name was Dante. And I **did** hunt demons and protected the world from the forces of evil. I knew I wasn't crazy. I never was. Someone had conspired to lock me up here so that I wouldn't protect the world anymore. And that someone had to already know that I was **very** hard to kill so the second option was make everyone think I was nuts.

'_I will find out who did this to me after I can find a goddamn way out of here._'

I looked around the place trying to think of an escape route and a plan to get out. Nothing came to mind. If I wanted to get out, I'd need an accomplice. But who would help me?

'_The only way I can get out is with another person helping me. But everyone wants something in return for helping these days. What would I have to offer a guard? I have no money, and Jake is just a replacement since the guard before him is in the clinic after getting his appendix removed. I would have to get help from another patient and offer him to get out along with me. But I can't risk getting one of those real loonies out of here._'

There were ten minutes left before recess time was over. Everyone would return to their cells, in their strap jackets, feeling nothing but their shoulders with their arms crossed inside the jacket, wearing those damned red silk pants and barefoot leaning on the cushion walls.

"Time's up, Paulo." Jake said when those ten minutes passed.

"My name…is…"

"Yes yes, I know, Dante."

"It **is **Dante!!!"

"Yeah…right. Now come on white-haired wonder. Time to return to your cell."

I growled and gritted my teeth in anger. Jake buckled the strap jacket on me again and took me back to my cell. He entered the locking code on the clearance machine which locked the door. I sat there once again.

'_I shouldn't have said that to Jake. There's a staff meeting tomorrow night. Doctors always ask the guards if their patients have shown any changes or if they still speak of their illusions. Jake is gonna tell them that I am still a madman and I'll be marked as no progress for another month!_'

I moved back and forth leaning on the wall as if I were on a rocking chair. I looked down at the cushion floor in despair.


	3. Chapter Three: Visitor

**Chapter Three: **_Visitor_

Next morning, I woke up in the exact same position I fell asleep. Which was the same exact position I was always on. I just sat there waiting for recess time. Three hours later, the damn bell finally rang. I followed the same routine I followed every damn day but that night it got different. The door opened sometime around 8: 00 P.M. and I saw Jake standing there.

"You got a visitor Paulo."

I twitched a little bit when I heard the name Paulo. I hated that name. Supposedly, I was Italian and I was the lonely child of two dead parents that died when I was one year old. But I still managed to turn my sight to Jake and stare at him with my eyes open wide.

"A visitor?" I asked.

"That's right. Some Harvard guy or something."

"Harvard?!"

"Yeah; you know 'im?"

"No…" I lied.

I wasn't gonna make the same mistake again and spill the beans to Jake again.

"Well then let's see what he wants. Hurry up; the staff reunion starts in fifteen minutes."

I was anxious to see the bastard reporter. He was the only suspect I had in the conspiracy to lock me up in that institute.

"Hello, Paulo." Harvard teasingly greeted.

He was my first visitor ever. The visitor room was real bitchy. There was a plastic glass in the center of the room that divided the room in half. It had one hole so that the visitor and the patient could speak to each other and their voices could be heard. In each half of the room there was a chair for each person. Harvard was already sitting in the left half and the right half was empty for me.

"Hey…" I replied, trying not to get too angry.

"It's been three weeks since you've been here. How do you feel?" He asked me.

"What happened with the story?" I asked without answering his question.

I didn't want my emotions to be seen by the guards at the camera room.

"It never got published."

"Why?"

"Somehow, a rival newspaper got it first."

"Oh come on, I'm not stupid. I've seen hundreds of papers and news channels showing the same news at the same time."

"Yes, but they don't say the exact same **words **and have the exact same **details**."

"Well how did a rival news source get it if it was a private conversation between you and me?"

"I…I don't know." Harvard answered as he shrugged.

I felt the anger flowing through my veins. My heart beating faster and faster. Boiling hot blood swimming throughout my body.

"You're…" I mumbled.

"What?"

"I know you're…"

"What? What is it Paulo?"

'_Great…just what I needed! He called me Paulo!!_ _I'm gonna bite that mother fucker's head off!!!!!!_'

"You are… You're… I know you're… YOU'RE LYING!!!!!!! YOU SON OF A BITCH YOU'RE LYING!!!!!!! I'M GONNA FUCKING CRUSH YOUR EYEBALLS OUT YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I unleashed my wrath on him.

I even stood up and tried to choke him through the single hole on the glass. But right away, four armored security guards stormed the room with tazers and shocked me unconscious.

"Whe-where am I?" I asked when I woke up.

I saw everything blurry at first. But when the blur shook off, I saw that I was strapped with metal buckles to a big armchair. It was like an electric chair without the electric part—thankfully.

"Relax Mr. Viceroy." A voice said out of nowhere.

Amongst the white room, there was a speaker on the wall in front of me. I also had a microphone attached to the chair in front of my mouth so the man behind the speaker could hear me.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"I am Dr. Machal, Mr. Viceroy. I am the director of the National Institution of Mental Health and you are in a high security room."

"So why am I here?"

"We are processing a brain test we got from you when you were unconscious to see what your level of mental illness is and what changes we need to make so that you are less aggressive. In the meantime, we have to keep you here. But keep in mind, Mr. Viceroy, that next time you get aggressive in this institution; you will be kept in a room like this permanently until you show some progress."

I tried my best not to get aggressive that very moment. I closed my eyes to rest some more. I must've been tazered more times than I could remember. I let sleep consume me until that doctor woke me up with my brain test results…


	4. Chapter Four: Escape

**Chapter Four: **_Escape_

Once again, I woke up, I felt my body numb; my muscles tired. I struggled to raise my eyelids. When I finally did, I saw a familiar face staring at me.

"Harvard…"

"Hello…" The reporter began.

He switched the microphone close to my mouth off before continuing to speak.

"…Dante."

"You son of a bitch, you knew I wasn't crazy all along!" I cried.

"Shut up, you whacko. I'm here because I'm planning to get you out of here. Now do you want to get out or not?"

"Do you think I'm stupid Harvard? I know you wouldn't want to help me escape when you were the one who put me here in the first place!"

"Do you still think I was the one who got you here?"

"If it wasn't you, then who was it?!"

"I don't know. That's the point of your escape. You and I are going to solve this mystery together. There hasn't been a framing story for years at the Informer! Especially one involving being locked up in the National Institute of Mental Health and not in jail!"

"Oh so that's what this is about huh? I'm gonna help you get a promotion?! Hell no!"

Harvard put a big grin on his face. He bent a little so that we were face to face. He was trying to make me angry and taking advantage that I couldn't move.

"Come on tough guy, you know you wanna get outta here…" He continued to tease.

I gritted my teeth and tried to keep myself from trying to break free to hurt him. He just stood there waiting for a reply. He could see right through me knowing that I was going to give him the answer that he wanted.

'_If I get outta here I could easily kill 'im and cut him to so many tiny pieces that they wouldn't have any evidence it was me. The only thing I haven't yet figured out is how am I gonna keep a low profile when they realize I've escaped._'

"So whatta you say; you're in or you're out?" The mother fucker kept pushing me.

'_The world could easily be in danger right now. And if I got out and went into hiding with Trish it'd be overrun by demons. If that were to happen, I think I'd stop them and then they'd realize I wasn't crazy and that I really am a hero._'

"Tic tock, tic tock…" Mr. Bastard kept teasing.

'_That's too farfetched; the world is most likely not in danger and they'll never cease to think I lost my rocker. I need to find Trish. That's my top priority. She'll be living **and **breathing evidence that I am completely sane._'

"Fine, I'll get your help any way I can." I finally replied.

"Good," The reporter said, "then let me get you off this chair and I'll explain my plan."

He unbuckled all the straps on the chair and I was finally free to move. But as I stood up, Harvard pulled out a gun and pointed it right at my head. I just stood there as if nothing was happening, staring at the journalist fearlessly.

"Don't move, I'm only doing this for my own security." He remarked.

I didn't listen and I proceeded to get closer. He warned me once again not to step one more inch closer to him or that he would shoot me right on the head.

'_This is my chance to definitely prove I'm not crazy._'

I got one inch closer to him as he had warned me not to and he didn't hesitate to shoot. But my skilled instincts kicked in right away. It was as if everything had gone slow motion for a split second. I saw his finger slowly start to squeeze the trigger and I ducked and kicked him on the stomach.

'_Uh-oh, that was a **stupid** move…_'

The gun had no silencer so the gunshot echoed through the whole hallway of the high-security sector.

"Oh great! That's just great! Why the hell did you do that for?!" Harvard yelled at me for my mistake.

He grabbed his stomach with one hand gasping for air. The other hand with the gun leaned on the wall as he rested. The sound of many higher-rank security guards running to my cell was heard.

"What do we do now?! You stupid son of a bitch!!" Harvard continued to whine.

I ignored his insults and just stared at him thinking of the only option we had.

"Well?" He asked.

"Stay here, if you don't you'll most likely get killed. I'll be back in just a bit."

I pushed him against the wall so that he would stay there. I needed him alive to find out who had done this to me. So I stepped out my cell facing about seven S.W.A.T.-like guards armed with tazers in one hand and machine guns in the other. The guard that was closer to me gave me a warning.

"Return to your cell. If you resist, you'll be electrocuted. If you resist twice, you'll be shot. If you resist again, you'll be shot to death."

I walked towards them without any attention to his cheesy threats.

"Return to your cell or face the consequences."

I proceeded towards them with absolutely no fear at all.

"This is your last warning…"

"Fuck you." I said.

"That's it, shock 'im guys!"

Four of the guards came at me with only tazers in hand. They tried to shock me but I swiftly dodged and broke their arms by their elbow joints. They cried in pain and fell to the floor.

"Shoot without casualty, fire!" The guard leader ordered.

One guard stepped forward and turned the machine gun to manual and fired one shot at my left leg. I twitched and growled a little; but didn't scream or move from my position.

"What the…fire again!"

"Yes sir." The machine gun guard replied.

He obeyed and shot my right leg. I forced myself to be numb and ignored the pain. Although the sedatives also helped quite a bit too. I walked closer to the three remaining guards and sighed.

'_This is going to hurt like a bitch…_'

"That's it, take him down! Fire at will!"

Another guard stepped forward and both guards switched their machine guns to automatic. They unleashed their arsenal on me all over my body. I continued to approach them with holes all over my body ignoring the pain. When they both ran out of ammo, I was right in front of them.

"Hello…goodbye." I said sarcastically.

I grabbed them and crashed them with the leader. They were now finished. I headed back to my cell and pulled Johns Harvard out.

"Ahhhhh! What the hell?!" He cried frightened.

Most but not all of my wounds had healed, so he could see about five holes on my head.

"I told you I'm not crazy. Now come, we need to get to the lab."

"Wha-wha we gon-gonna do i-i-i-in the l-lab?" The speechless bastard journalist asked.

"I need to find my mental test results. It'll be evidence that I'm definitely not crazy."

I pulled him by the arm to run through the hallway towards the lab. I let go after a while, I only grabbed him to shake him up so he could run after me. We quickly headed to the lab. My palms were bathed in sweat along with drops of sweat dripping down my cheeks as my heart beat faster than a drum at an Indian ritual.

'_I'm not fucking crazy…I know my name is Dante…I know I am a demon slayer…I know I saved the world from Mundus…I know I have a female partner called Trish…But where is she?_'


	5. Chapter Five: Side Effect

**Chapter Five: **_Side Effect_

We finally reached the lab. I stealthily moved to the entrance while leaning on the wall. I took a quick glimpse of how many doctors were inside. Luckily, there were only two. They mentioned the name "Mr. Viceroy" so I knew they had just gotten my test results.

"What are we going to do?" Harvard asked me quietly.

"There is no **we**. I'm going in and I'm stealing the test results, you just stay here and keep a low profile." I whispered.

I took a deep breath and entered the lab. One of the scientists spotted me instantly.

"Hey! What are you doing out of your—ugh!"

I punched him on the stomach and it took away all his breath right away. He fell unconscious but I grabbed him before he fell to the floor. The other doctor was heading for the alarm button and I threw the unconscious doctor to him with all my might. They both crashed down on the floor unconscious.

"Okay Harvard, come in now." I assured my "partner."

He came in and I ordered him to look for the test results in the hands of one of the doctors instantly. He was still a bit shocked but he searched for the file and found it.

"Bring it to me." I ordered.

He obeyed and handed it to me. It was in a folder with the words "RESTRICTED" stamped on it and in a corner it said "Viceroy, Paulo."

"This is **just** what I was looking for…" I muttered to myself.

I anxiously opened the folder and skipped all the crappy paperwork for the doctors to sign. I also skimmed the pictures of an x-ray of my brain and got to the last page with the results.

'_Let's see what we got here._'

I read the entire page from top to bottom and I was horrified by what I saw:

_Level of sanity: 3.5/15_

_Status of patient: Terminal mental illness_

_Symptoms: Paranoid delusions, illusions, schizophrenia_

_Illness: Insanity_

_Amount of non-deadly illnesses: One (Insanity)_

_Amount of deadly illnesses: One (Brain cancer)_

_Status of brain cancer: Terminal_

"God no…" I whispered.

"What?" Harvard asked.

"No…that's not…that's not right…I'm not…I'm not…" I continued.

"What is it Dante?"

"It says here I'm…cra-crazy…and…and…"

"And what Dante? And what?"

"And…and…it…also says…I'm…no…that's not…right…"

"What else do you have?"

"Terminal…brain…cancer…" I nervously answered.

"How long do you have left?"

"I don't know. That must be in another file. So start searching."

"What?!" The dumbfounded reporter exclaimed.

"Start searching now!!!!!!" I ordered in fury.

Without one more word said, Harvard searched for the file containing full information on my brain cancer right away. He searched all over until he found something. He passed it to me and I opened the folder anxiously. I read it carefully being sure not to miss any little detail.

"So how long?" Johns asked when I finished reading the file.

"Goddamn it; it doesn't say."

"Did you find anything new?"

"Yeah, it happened because my brain's muscles couldn't sustain anymore schizophrenic traumas and it developed amazingly quickly that it couldn't be detected before its terminal status. I'm supposed to get migraines when the cancer takes effect. The worse the migraines get indicates the lesser time I have left. "

'_This is bad, I don't have much time left._ _At least I haven't gotten any migraines yet…_'

"We better get outta here and find out who the hell did this to me. I know I'm not crazy; the brain cancer is a side effect of whatever the hell they got into my brain. It must've been the fucking sedatives. Wait a minute…" I thought out loud.

"What is it?" Harvard questioned.

"I know what the sedatives I take are labeled. Look for a sedative labeled _T14-02_."

"What for?"

"Just do it goddamn it!"

'_Jesus Christ, does he have to question **every** idea I get?!_'

After he found it, I told him to keep it somewhere safe.

"We'll be needing it for when we get out. I want you to test it to see if it's really a sedative or if it's a sedative mixed with a hallucination drug after we're outta here. Now let's move!" I explained.

Harvard put the sedative in one of his coat's pockets and zipped it close. Then we headed towards the hallway again. I was determined to get out and find the person who did this to me.

'_When I find the person who came up with this sick plan; I'm gonna scarface the mother fucker!!! But I also need a cure for my brain cancer. After all, it's not a real cancer, it's artificial so it may have a cure. Let's just hope it fucking does…_'


	6. Chapter Six: Freedom

**Chapter Six: **_Freedom_

After getting shot by about sixty guards which I shoved out of my way at the lobby, I was finally free. We headed out the door and I threw two police officers out of their cars and stole their car. We drove off at full speed, escaping all the other cop cars behind us. It was a wild chase, but I was a wild driver.

'_Alright!!! Just how I like it! What a welcome-back gift!_'

I grinned at the sight of the terrified Johns Harvard who had his seatbelt on and was clutching his fingers into his seat as if he was holding on for dear life. I on the other hand, had no seatbelt on and I was enjoying driving like a maniac. After ten minutes of a good ol' fashioned car chase; I found an alleyway too thin for any car. I still entered it, having a plan in my mind.

"What the hell are you doing?! You got a death wish?!" Harvard cried as the car got crushed advancing through the thin alleyway.

"Shut up!!" I exclaimed.

The car was so bashed it couldn't move any longer. The other police cars were approaching in line as their cars got destroyed as well.

"Time to get out of the car!" I declared.

"How?!?!?!" Harvard whined.

"Get out through the door, get on the roof, and jump off of the car." I replied.

I did as I said and waited for the wuss to follow.

"RUN!" I cried when we were both off the car.

We ran as fast as we could. I looked back, and saw all the cars crashing with ours and causing a chain reaction. In time, they all blew up. I could feel the heat of the explosion behind my ears. After the explosion was over; I stopped running and Harvard as well. We both bent down holding our knees and gasping for air.

"Great! Now what do we do?! The cops are cornering this entire area and you're only wearing those red silk pants from the asylum! And the back of my coat is burned! We're both going to attract attention!" Harvard continued to whine.

"Stop whining you old man. Lose the coat, and go to the slums. Find a dead-end alley near a warehouse. Knock on the door, password is _simon says_. Ask for Dr. Ridley. Tell him I sent you. Act cool, if they notice you're nervous you're dead."

"And why would I wanna go there?"

"You need a plastic surgery. Dr. Ridley is a plastic surgeon that operates with no questions asked. I met him 'cause he's in the same part of the slums that Devil Never Cry is in and he gave Trish a boob job."

"Why do I need plastic surgery? Shouldn't it be **you **who needs one?"

"I can take care of my own. You on the other hand…"

"Okay okay, I get it." Harvard finally understood.

"When you get the surgery go do me the test on the sedative. Remember, password is _simon says _and you need to keep cool if you wanna live. Now go!"

Harvard dropped his burned coat to the wet cement floor and walked away. I rested for a minute and then prepared to walk on the walls. I leaped into the air as fast as I could and ran on the walls until I reached the rooftop. I jumped from rooftop to rooftop following Harvard from above.

'_Boy do I **love **the smell and taste of freedom!_'


	7. Chapter Seven: Gone

**Chapter Seven: **_Gone_

After I made sure Harvard had gone to Ridley's warehouse, I made my way a bit further towards Devil Never Cry. But I was shocked by what I found. There **was **no Devil Never Cry. The spot where my "shop" was supposed to be in was a strip club called _Inner Demons_!

'_Oh no…no…where the hell is it?! Where's Devil Never Cry?! Dear God no!_'

"What the hell…AHHHHH!!!!!!!" I cried.

My first migraine had started. My brain felt as if it had a vibrating cell phone inside with its vibration increased by a thousand. It ached painfully and vibrated in my very skull. I fell to my knees and squeezed my head hardly. I continued to scream in pain from atop the rooftop until the migraine passed.

"Dear God…"

I got back up in cold sweat, horrified. I'd never felt fear like this ever. First the test results said I was crazy and now Devil Never Cry didn't exist.

'_What if everything really is part of my imagination?_'

I jumped down from the rooftop and landed on the pavement floor. I got up and sighed before entering the club. There was this techno music playing and there were round tables with men sitting around them looking at a stripper on a pole on their tables. They whistled and paid the strippers money to make a move on the pole. I would've enjoyed it if I wasn't so damn nervous. Suddenly, a man walked towards me. He was the club's manager.

"Hey, ladies' night is on Thursdays!" He yelled.

'_Goddamn, he thinks I'm a male stripper!_'

"Listen buddy, don't push me. I'm in a very shitty situation right now so fuck off." I told the manager.

"Oh yeah? Well let's see about that!"

The man whistled and two security guards with bats in their hands stepped in.

"Take care of 'im." He ordered.

Then the manager walked back to his table. The two guards took me to a warehouse behind the club.

"Come on, gorillas!" I teased them.

The first guard ran towards me ready to swing his bat at my stomach. I kicked him in the crotch and threw him to the floor. I took his bat and used it to shield myself from the second guard's swing. Then I double-kicked the guard and threw the bat on him. I headed back to the club to find the manager.

"What the— Didn't I send Bob and Joe to take care of ya?" The manager asked surprised.

I just walked towards him and choked him. I took him outside the club and put him down.

"What the fuck do you want ya shithead?!" He asked me nervously.

"The truth." I answered.

"The truth about what?"

"Confess it; you just built this strip club! Where's Trish?!"

"What the hell are you talking about you crazy hick?!"

I choked him and put his feet above the ground.

"Don't lie to me!"

"What are you talking about?! This club was already built! I just bought it!"

The man struggled to let go of my tight grip. If I squeezed any harder he'd already be dead.

"GAH!!! Fuck you!" I cried as I threw the man six feet into the air.

Right then, I got another migraine. I fell to my knees squeezing my head again in torturous pain. I felt as if the world was spinning in slow motion around me. I could hear my own voice in my head speaking to me.

"_You are delusional."_

"NO!"

"_Devil Never Cry doesn't exist."_

"NO!"

"_Trish isn't real."_

"NO!"

"_You are suffering from schizophrenia."_

"NO!"

"_You need to be locked up in loony bin again!"_

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The migraine stopped and I fell to the floor stone cold. Some time later, I got woken up. I saw everything in a blurry image and couldn't recognize the person who woke me up. I knew he/she was looking down at me but I didn't know who the person was. His voice sounded deep and disturbing.

"**Dante, Dante; wake up."**

"What? Whe-where am I?"

"**You're outside some strip club called _Inner Demons_. What are you doing here?"**

"I…no…dear heavens…God no…no…"

"**What is it? Shake it off."**

"No…it…it can't be true I…they're…not…real…"

"**What are you talking about Dante?"**

"They're not real…they're…not real…"

"**Who's not real?"**

"Trish…Vergil…Mundus…Sparda…"

"**That's what I wanted to talk to you about."**

"They're all…just suddenly…lost…Devil Never…Cry…is gone…"


	8. Chapter Eight: Back

**Chapter Eight: **_Back_

I woke up from what felt like an endless sleep. I found myself strapped to a chair again. I was in the same white room with a speaker in front of me. I was back in the goddamned asylum.

"Hello Mr. Viceroy. It's me, Dr. Machal. I have some unfortunate news for you sir." Dr. Machal said through the speaker.

"How did I get here?" I asked.

"The police found you and your accomplice in the slums. Your accomplice is to be trialed in 48 hours for helping you escape. You are to be in this cell permanently and your food will be brought to you during recess time along with your medication. You will also be allowed **no **visitors. You will remain here until you show some sign of recuperation."

"What about my brain cancer?"

"Ah yes, I am deeply sorry about that sir. But there is nothing we can do."

"How long do I have left?"

"It is hard to tell. You will be getting a medicine along with your daily sedative to stop the migraines. Goodbye Mr. Viceroy. And again; sorry."

'_Great… So Harvard is in prison, I am back in this mother fucking institute, I still have my brain cancer, I'm running out of time, the government still thinks I lost my fucking mind, and whoever did all this to me is still running free. Could it be any worse?_'

I looked around wondering if I was really crazy.

'_Everything I have tried to find as evidence is gone. Even Devil Never Cry. And that son of a bitch manager would've spoken if he really knew about anything I was saying after that tight choke I gave him. The test results indicate I really am crazy as well. Could it be that after all, I really lost it?_'

I spent the rest of the evening trying to remember what had happened when I got that migraine outside the strip club. Everything after getting the migraine 'till now was so shady…

'_All I remember is how painful the migraine was. I remember feeling as if the world was spinning and I also remember hearing voices in my head. Although I don't remember who the voices belonged to or what they said. I remember this deep, dark voice but I can't recall if it was coming from my head or not. Besides that I can't remember anything else no matter how hard I try to._'

I then began to think about Harvard and his trial.

'_He's gonna be trialed in two days and I can't do anything about it but wait. I needed him to prove I'm not crazy. But perhaps he'll show up with the hallucinogen-infected sedative to prove I'm not crazy and that he did have motive to break me out. So I just have to wait and see. Goddamn I think they already gave me my daily sedative while I was unconscious because I'm feeling sleepy… Mother fuckers are **still **drugging me…_'


End file.
